


Strange Markings

by Birdgirl



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Drabble, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, The Doctor/Others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 17:44:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4028971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdgirl/pseuds/Birdgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he was a boy, The Doctor was told to cherish the words on his skin. Every physical being in the universe had them, the markings. They were the one true thing that the universe had in common. But, last time he'd regenerated, the markings disappeared. Were replaced. Since that day he'd ignored the words on his right forearm, hid them with a leather jumper and a purple t-shirt, and that had been that. That was, until he met her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Markings

Every physical being in the universe had them, the markings. They were the one true thing that the universe had in common. His classmates, his teachers, his parents all had them. Some of them were old languages, some new and foreign, linking the small Gallifreyan boy in his linguistics class to someone on the planet Clom. Most, however, were simple to decipher- after all, the circular Gallifreyan on his left shoulder was something he'd been able to read for centuries, as easy as his own name.

_Jenny is a nice name, isn't it?_

He'd learned, later, what they really meant. His soulmate- the prettiest girl in Kasterborous, he used to call her. They had 2 children, neither of which they named Jenny. The third might have been. There was a lot, before The Time War, that might have been.

Even after he'd run away, the mark stayed. He just let it be, behind suits and scarves and pieces of celery. It never faded, never changed. Not until after his 953rd birthday. The last time he'd regenerated, the markings- they disappeared. Replaced, with a foreign language that he'd seen many times before, now written on his right forearm. They were not words his wife had ever said.

The thought made him angry. Hurt. Confused. Nobody had a mark that _changed_. They were forever, absolute. Each being a mark, and each mark the first words their soulmate would ever say to them. They couldn't be replaced. Since that day, he'd ignored the words on his right forearm, written in a language that wasn't even his. Hid them with a leather jumper and a purple t-shirt, and that had been that.

/

Oh, the thrill of the chase. That saying, human as it was, was amazingly spot-on. He sped through corridors under the building, something called a _Henrick's_ , a bomb in his hand and living plastic creatures on his tail. He hadn't had this much excitement in, well, decades.

That's when he heard it. A voice, female. Oh, Fantastic- some human girl finding herself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Typical human. He rushed towards it.

"Right, I've got the joke. Who's idea was this? Is it Derek's? Is it? Derek, is this you? What- aahhh!"

He broke into the room, just in time to see the girl, young and blonde, under the raised arm of a plastic mannequin, poised and ready to strike-

He grabbed her hand, and she turned towards him, terrified.

"Run." he whispered.

/

When they reached the lift, he felt scrutinized. Even while he was dismembering the living plastic, the girl looked between him and her own wrist, scared but… fascinated? Odd. As the lift went down, she opened her mouth. He braced himself for the 'who are you' or the 'what the hell was that?' or, as he'd had on occasion, the 'let go of me, you bloody creep!' (honestly, he'd never understand why holding one's hand brought such mixed reactions). The words he heard instead were quite different.

"You pulled his arm off."

He froze.

No. No, that couldn't…

Could it?

He looked at his own arm, the one covered by leather. It couldn't be real. Not here, not now, not ever. His reply was distracted.

"Yep. Plastic…"

"Very clever! Nice trick! Who were they then, students? Is this a student thing or what?"

He was, unfortunately, really only half-listening. Still playing her previous sentence over and over in his head. Looking her up and down. She was short, curvy, blonde. Young, perhaps still in her teens. Lot of makeup.

 _You pulled his arm off_. Those were the exact words…

She looked at him expectantly. He registered, then, what her very last sentence had been, and was pleasantly surprised to find that that wasn't a normal 'sod off' either.

"Why would they be students?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you said it. Why students?"

"'Cos to get so many people dressed up and being silly, they got to be students."

He smiled. "That makes sense. Well done."

"Thanks?"

"They're not students."

"Ah."

/

The lift stopped at the bottom. After a much too-long explanation about plastic creatures in the wake of a literal ticking bomb, the girl seemed not quite satisfied, but at very least informed. With any luck, she'd soon be back to her normal life, lovely beans on toast, and all that. Still, what she'd said back in the lift… it was too interesting not to at least get her name. He wasn't sure why he wanted to know so badly, only that he did.

"I'm The Doctor, by the way. What's your name?"

She looked at him in that way again. Like she could see more about him than she ought to. Like she was learning him, memorizing him, wondering whether he was real. She answered slowly, but audibly.

"…Rose." she said.

Rose. The name made him smile, ear to ear. And, one might note, his ears were fairly large. One might also note, The Doctor hadn't had much reason to smile in the past years. For her own sake, he hoped she would never see him again. For his own part, he very much wished that he would see her another time.

"Nice to meet you, Rose." he said through his dopey grin, and he meant it. But now, he supposed, was not the time for long-winded pleasantries and introductions. He didn't bother with goodbyes, running off only to shout back over his shoulder.

"Now, run for your life!"


End file.
